Harry Potter. Tuesday. Midnight.

How did I get this job?

I gave in. I took the still unnamed puppy. There was only one left, and I am sure someone else would have taken it. Or at least taken it to the pound. So why is the girl who is afraid of the dark taking the puppy out in the scary yard at 1 am? Who leaves a box of puppies outside the church anyway? Someone smart, I suppose.

Former Compulsive Liar. Present.

Sometimes I tell a story, give my opinion, or share details of an event, and realize that it may or may not be true. I have been known to make things up. (Like I am a tennis player.) Sometimes, my memory has distorted the actual happening into what I wanted it to be. (Like I am a good tennis player.) I usually am not well informed, and do not have many of the facts, but I like to think that I am an expert. Therefore, I am a self-declared know-it-all, who really only knows what she thinks, what she sees, and what she thinks she sees. Observant as I am, the fine details which I think mean something, usually amount to something excessively unremarkable, and not as romantic as I had imagined.

I do not like to hear bad news. I do not relish in gossip. I do not like to talk about people in any way that may hurt their feelings. But it happens, and I always feel bad. Ask anyone who has been trapped with me for more than a few hours; I end up saying something remotely unkind about someone known or unknown to me. Then I feel such distress that I make my apologies to ears that usually do not remember. I always commit myself to not saying anything about anyone for any of their faults, or personal annoyances, but I am an obvious imperfection in the crowd of humanity, and thus the cycle rounds. See an older post for further examples.

I am also guilty of embellishment, as I previously alluded to, and I am deeply troubled that I may give the wrong impression about myself or my fine abilities. Or anyone else's. These statements are characteristically followed by a statement such as, “Well, I am not really sure it happened that way”, “That isn't what I really said”, or perhaps, “This is only my opinion, please don't take it as doctrine.”

I am a people watcher. I notice mannerisms, and the awkward movements that you always hope no one sees. I notice mispronounced words, incorrect usage, etc. Not that I do not myself make these mistakes, for I am guilty. Reason steps in and tells me that people don't care, and likely do not pay close enough attention to notice such things. So as I watch people, I do not look for imperfection, but good things. In my mind, I find certain files are fuller than others. If I take those items out and arrange them all behind my eyes, I feel like I can tell you a great deal about this person. My conclusions are usually idyllic.

This is not to say that I do not tell the truth in general. For I do tell things as accurately as I can, and often still my tongue for wont of information. I am constantly plagued by things I have said for the truth that may or may not be found in them, but mostly I lack courage to accept that someone may not like what I say; and so I set out to know a detailed knowledge of the subjects on which I express my thoughts. I do not endure any form of rejection well. A tragic, common flaw, yes. I say lots of things that people may not like, but the things that are important to me are hard to say; the stories I want to write are hard to let others hear.

And so much of the time, I remain silent.

Aviaiton Museum, take 216

Susiecation

As some of you know, especially those of you who were babysitting for me (thank you ever so much!!!), I went to see a good friend of mine for a few days. Somewhere along the way I lost Susie and I am super excited to have found her again (i can't believe i am about to say it! thankyou facebook!). She is the craziest of my friends and always makes me laugh.

In true Amanda fashion, we got lost coming back from the airport. What would a trip be without 3 extra hours in an awesome bug? We saw lots of beautiful landscapes, a Herbie car, and met many people who we thought were insane, but in all actuality, they knew where we were, and we didn't.
We got to spend time at the Greenbrier doing fun things. Facials, pedicures, swimming, sleeping. You know, all of that stuff I didn't know I couldn't live without. I could have just looked at the grounds. It was fantastic.

We also had a very unsuccessful yard sale. No one showed up until 9am. Here, people are knocking on your door at 6am. I was quite relieved actually, we stayed up so late.

We had a fun time, there was lots of laughs, and movies, and music, and it sure was weird being away from my kids for that long. I think I like being responsible for someone else.

Salt, please.

I like salt. However, my cereal tasted a little salty this morning. That I do not like. It reminded me of the time when I baked a Texas Sheet cake and served it to my family, a friend, and the missionaries. I followed the recipe, the cake turned looked fabulous! No sink holes or anything. (I am not a great cake baker)
I served it to those poor, unfortunate young men. They ate it. Luckily, the frosting was perfect, and was served with a scoop of ice cream. The original recipe called for 1 1/4 teaspoon of salt. I had written 4 Tablespoons when I copied it. So, you can imagine that it was rather like eating play dough. Sadly only one person mentioned it and it was far after everyone had finished theirs. Oh well, what's one more strike against my kitchen skills?

Things are just things.

Today I met a woman, while shopping for groceries, who was amazing. She was an ordinary 83 year old woman at first glance. As I talked to her, I learned that she had three children by the age of 20, has only bought one dress in her life, makes all of her own clothes, took care of her husband until he died. I asked her if she ever got lonely, and she said that she had plenty of work to do and was not lonely. She still tends her garden and sews her clothes. She was buying patterns. She said they lived off of nothing when their children were growing up. Out in the country and everything was simple, and they worked hard.

It reminded me that things are not that important, and while it is nice to have a nice new TV, or a bedroom suite, it is much more satisfying to make my own skirt, even if my prideful heart wants to tell everyone that I made it. I think I forget that Work is so rewarding. The tomatoes from my flower bed taste better than the ones I buy. The things I make remind me that I have had many gifts and talents given to me, and builds confidence that I am using my time wisely.

The woman was so grateful for everything. I read an article in a back issue of The Friend, and it was about a little girl who was compelled by her mother to find something to be thankful for in every situation. What an attitude improver. That is my goal this week; to find something to be grateful for in every situation. So when the clothesalanche falls on me, I guess I will be grateful the clothes are clean, and not dirty.

Cake Balls by Bakerella

http://bakerella.blogspot.com/2007/12/red-velvet-cake-balls.html

For Becky, and anyone else who wants to make or eat beautiful treats.

Amanda's High School Happenings.

Please Validate My Ego

I used to be a person who told everyone every little thing about myself, in horrifyingly boring detail. In a way I still have this horrible habit, perhaps a little muted. Lucky readers. In thinking about my quest for validation, I realized that we all seek it. I happen to be starving for it. Whether it is the child who begs for a compliment on his school work; the girl who shows ridiculous pictures to her friends, looking for compliments; the girl who sends pictures to her dad, knowing he won't respond, the woman who can't even let her husband take a bite of his food before asking if he likes it, or maybe even the woman who cleans her house just to get the compliment. Maybe the compliments are the motive for some. If I could get people to stamp my ego like a parking validation, my insecurities would be much more discreet.

Last Day of Kindergarten.

It is a good thing that Sam's end of the year program was today, and not last week. Good for my mascara that is. Last week, I would have been an emotional wreck, desperately trying not to spill my salty tears. Not today. Today I was even able to make normal human conversation, with one exception. Let me introduce myself, in case you don't know me:
I am Mr Jekyll Jekyll Hyde, Mr. Hyde Hyde Jekyll.


I realize that was awfully random, but the song, especially the chorus, is stuck in my head. It is also my theme song. I made it through the day, all thanks to my heart of stone! Well, this is not about my social awkwardness, but about Sam, so...

I told Sam he could take some pictures in his classroom. These were the result:



No classmates, or where he sat, tissue boxes, and I think the kitchen center too. Well, his favorite Kindergarten haunts have forever been digitized. Samuel had the same teacher that Collin had for Kindergarten. Same classroom too. I really wish I had taken a picture of Collin with Sam and his teacher. But alas, traveling parents get no such perks.

Good job Sam on making it through Kindergarten. I wish I were in Kindergarten. Well, not really. I am happy to be 30. And not in danger of being put in time out, which I most certainly deserve! And really, is the cap and gown necessary? It is cute I suppose.